Angel on a Prayer
by Solo Noraneko
Summary: Duo re-visits the site of the Maxwell Church massacre, trying to come to terms with the war, and himself. Shonen Ai.


Title: Angel on a Prayer
    
    Title: Angel on a Prayer
    
    Author: Solo Noraneko
    
    Warnings: Veeery minor blood, angst, shonen ai/yaoi
    
    Pairings: 1x2
    
    Archiving: My site; if anybody else wants this, please
    
    let me know FIRST.
    
    Comments: Need 'em, crave 'em, want 'em!Send it to
    
    [l2_orphan@yahoo.com][1]
    
    Notes: Mah head hurts...*swoon*
    
     
    
     
    
    Angel on a Prayer
    
    By: Solo Kitsune
    
     
    
    Even after the wars, V08744 was a very noisy, crowded
    
    colony with noisy, crowded cities and noisy, crowded
    
    minds.And through the crowded throng a boy of around
    
    sixteen years of age walked.He seemed just like any
    
    other person in the crowd, but he was set apart,
    
    special.He was a killer.He was Death.And he
    
    never walked alone.No, even though he looked alone,
    
    it wasn't so.The boy never ventured alone.It was
    
    that eternal presence that allowed him to survive the
    
    hell of war.That allowed him to go on smiling
    
    despite the kaleidoscope of death that spiralled
    
    around him.But there was no smile on Death's face
    
    today.The blue-violet eyes of the boy where very old
    
    indeed, and etched with much sadness.
    
     
    
    The crowd pushed and flowed by him, noisy,
    
    disorganized and chaotic, like a herd of cattle going
    
    to the slaughter.Some would stare at those ancient
    
    eyes with looks equally bovine and dumb.They did not
    
    know.They did not know that Death walked among them.
    
     Death in the form of a boy whose innocence was dashed
    
    to pieces long ago.The boy looked as if he was
    
    searching for something that could not be found.He
    
    was clad in the garments of a priest, and his
    
    sandy-colored trenchcoat billowed in the wind as he
    
    walked by.Even though the fighting was over, the war
    
    that Duo Maxwell waged was never over.It raged on,
    
    bloody, chaotic and bitter.Without rhyme nor reason.
    
     It waged on in his dreams.Dreams of giant toy
    
    soldiers and bloodstained soil reeking of copper. 
    
    Over and over, he could never erase the memory of the
    
    slaughter of his childhood.
    
     
    
    Duo paused in front of the burnt out hulk of the
    
    church on Maxwell Street.His heart skipped a beat. 
    
    There was nothing much left of the Maxwell church,
    
    save for its crumpled stone shell with its fragmented
    
    stained glass windows.No longer would faithful
    
    parishoners pay a visit to the rectory, which too,
    
    laid in ruins.And no longer would the convent be
    
    teeming with screaming children and nuns toiling over
    
    buckets of water and filthy clothes.But even now
    
    life seemed to go on, to repair itself.The ruins of
    
    the church where flecked here and there with green
    
    patches of wild-growing foliage and fungus.Birds had
    
    made homes in what remained of the roofs.Duo could
    
    hear the soft whispers of their feathers in his ears
    
    as they fluttered here and there from their dusty
    
    lofts, nests now abandoned and useless from the winter
    
    weather.Yes, life went on, with or without the poor
    
    souls of the Maxwell Church Massacre.
    
     
    
    Duo hesitated.He was stricken with an unknown fear,
    
    as if he was about to go to court for murder.But he
    
    was a murderer.Despite the presence that had
    
    protected him all these years, saved him from the
    
    virus and had kept him company in the silent vaults of
    
    space and oppressive enemy prison cells, it could not
    
    wash away the blood.No matter how hard he tried,
    
    there was no way to wash off the blood dripping from
    
    his hands.And now, he thought, I will have to pay
    
    for that.Sooner, or later.
    
     
    
    He stepped into the ruins of the church, and as he did
    
    so a large flock of pidgeons rose before him and
    
    ascended into the sky, leaving behind lazilly floating
    
    dust motes and feathers which seemed to glitter in the
    
    cracks of light which seeped through the fractured
    
    windows and brittle walls.The stale smell of dust,
    
    mold and rotting vestments hung in his nostrils as he
    
    approached the altar.He walked by rows of pews, some
    
    of them burnt and broken, grey with dust and pidgeon
    
    mutes.Somewhere in between the aisles he found a
    
    pile of bottles and beer cans, and a sick feeling
    
    entered his stomach.How anyone could sit here and
    
    defile a place where so many people died was
    
    unfathomable.But then again, he thought, I was a
    
    defilement to this place, too. 
    
     
    
    Before Duo reached the altar, he stopped at a spot
    
    where the sun showed through a fracture in the
    
    ceiling, leaving a golden patch of light on the dusty
    
    ground.He reached inside his trenchcoat and produced
    
    a red rose with a bow tied around its stem.He stared
    
    down at the patch of light for a long time, eyes
    
    growing hot with tears.
    
     
    
    "Boys don't cry, boys don't cry, boys don't cry, boys
    
    don't cry..." he repeated in a quivering voice.He
    
    did not even realize how hard he was gripping the rose
    
    stem.The thorns bit hard into the palm of his hand
    
    and long rivulets of blood flowed forth, snaking along
    
    his skin and dripping to the ground, forming scarlet
    
    red patches and splotches.Soon he eased his
    
    white-knuckle grip on the rose.He took it in his
    
    hands, supporting it as reverently as a newborn baby,
    
    and slowly knelt down, placing the rose in the patch
    
    of light.He stood back up again, and a single tear
    
    escaped his eye, falling downward.It landed on one
    
    of the rose's tender, fleshy petals and twinkled for a
    
    moment in the sunlight before it slid out of view,
    
    leaving a long silvery trail. 
    
     
    
    "I'll never forget you, Sister Helen.Oh, why did you
    
    leave me?Was it because I stole the mobile suit, or
    
    called Father Maxwell stupid, or didn't believe in
    
    God?I...I'm sorry.Its all my fault this happened. 
    
    Do you still love me?Do you think about me in
    
    heaven?Too bad I'll never see you again.There's no
    
    place in heaven for those such as me."
    
     
    
    He turned away then, trying to erase the memory of her
    
    soft touch, her warm embrace.Like the embrace of a
    
    mother, he thought.He continued his way down the
    
    dusty aisles.The altar loomed up before him, a
    
    rotting wreck of torn and disintegrating cloth and
    
    broken marble.With a cry of despair he fell just
    
    short of the shallow altar steps, kneeling prostrate
    
    on the dirty ground, hunched over and head bent, hands
    
    clasped in a bloody white-knuckled motion of prayer. 
    
    Yes, for the first time in so long, Duo Maxwell began
    
    to pray.
    
     
    
    "Oh why, why damn you, did you allow me to live, when
    
    everybody else around me died?They where good
    
    people.Sister Helen, she was always there for us. 
    
    She comforted me when everbody else around me left and
    
    went away.And Father Maxwell, he was a fool, but he
    
    meant well.Or did he?"
    
     
    
    He stared imploringly at the large dusty cross at the
    
    altar, but it stood silent, offering no answer.Duo
    
    continued.
    
     
    
    "Oh Father, I...I killed all those people.You, who
    
    talked of peace and nonviolence...you would hate me
    
    now.I'm stained in with the blood of thousands.I'm
    
    an ingrateful brat.I wasn't worthy of your kindness
    
    Father...I never was.Yourself and Sister
    
    Helen.....Momma a-and Dad, S-Solo...You didn't deserve
    
    death.It was I who deserved it!Oh why Solo, why,
    
    why did you shield me from that damned disease?!I
    
    wanted to die, oh I wanted to die so bad, and now I'm
    
    left like this, left to suffer.Is that my
    
    punishment?Is that why I was left to live?WHY?!"
    
     
    
    Some birds who had remained scattered in the rafters
    
    with Duo's pained cry.Then everything fell silent
    
    again.Silence.Oppressive silence.A sob escaped
    
    from Duo's throat and, as much as he tried to repress
    
    it, the tears came harder.They streamed down his
    
    cheeks, leaving silvery trails, and landed on the
    
    dusty floor to mix with the blood from his lacerated
    
    palm, which began to sting from the salt of his sweat
    
    and tears.His voice took on a pleading tone.
    
     
    
    "Please, tell me something, anything.Oh please...a
    
    word, a message, a sign.Something.Oh please oh
    
    please..."The tears overtook him, and he cried
    
    freely.Everyone had abandoned him.I am unworthy of
    
    their love...Everyone in my life left me, died because
    
    of me...
    
     
    
    "The others told me I'd find you here," a voice said
    
    flatly from behind him.Duo snapped out of it with a
    
    start at the sound of the familiar voice, his heart in
    
    his throat.He turned around to face him, the boy
    
    with a shock of dark brown hair and burning cobalt
    
    eyes that lanced straight through his soul.Of course
    
    he can see my soul, Duo thought.He's been through
    
    the same things I have.He understands me.Or, does
    
    he truly?Had he been worried about him?Or was he
    
    just sent on behalf of one of his companions.Quatre,
    
    probably.It was then a wave of shame came over him. 
    
    He, kneeling prostrate on the ground, face glossy and
    
    wet with tears, blood seeping from the cracks between
    
    his tightly clenched fingers.Boys don't cry.And
    
    here he was, a wreck, and crying in front of the
    
    Perfect Soldier.
    
     
    
    But there was something in the war-hardened boy's
    
    features that changed suddenly.In a motion that
    
    surprised Duo, he knelt down and touched Duo's
    
    bloodied hand ever so slightly, a touch as delicate as
    
    mist after a hard rainstorm.
    
     
    
    "Duo...I've always envied you, from the first time we
    
    ever crossed paths."
    
     
    
    Duo seemed perplexed.This was so not like him. 
    
    "He-Heero?"
    
     
    
    There was something in those deep blue eyes that Duo
    
    noticed.Something...Could it be?Pain?Sorrow? 
    
    Regret?He wasn't sure.
    
     
    
    "Duo...do you think...maybe...you could teach me how
    
    to cry?"
    
     
    
    Heero took Duo's bloodied hand in his, and held it
    
    tenderly.Duo moved closer to him, and found himself
    
    in a warm embrace.He could almost feel, as they
    
    huddled there in the gloom of the broken-down church,
    
    soft feathers brushing against his skin, enveloping
    
    him in a protective shield of warmth.It was then
    
    that he got his answer, an answer that was long in
    
    coming, even though it had been under his nose the
    
    whole time.
    
     
    
    God had sent him an angel.
    
     

   [1]: http://us.f126.mail.yahoo.com/ym/Compose?To=l2_orphan@yahoo.com&YY=68408&order=up&sort=date&pos=2



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